


Just what Halfdan needed

by weird_child



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 11:55:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13810671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weird_child/pseuds/weird_child
Summary: An extended version of the famous dialogue





	Just what Halfdan needed

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work ever, I've never even thought of myself as a fic writer but I loved these two so much that it pains me to see almost no content about them
> 
> Classically, English isn't my mother tongue, so please feel free to correct any weird places
> 
> What else? I dunno. Nothing special, nothing graphical, just how things might have (should have?) been. Hope you like it!

“She was… not a she” said Halfdan, looking away.

“What?” gasped Bjorn.

“You heard”, this time the Viking stared at Bjorn’s eyes challengingly but with a slight overtone of something awkwardly similar to embarrassment, as far as Bjorn could figure. He’s never seen Halfdan this uncomfortable before.

All kinds of thoughts rushed through Bjorn’s mind, showing various emotions on his face. Halfdan could tell that Bjorn most definitely was amused by their conversation and that made his moustache twist worriedly.

“Annnd… was that…” started Bjorn carefully, “A problem…for you?”

Halfdan almost choked. For several seconds he couldn’t come up with a response and in the end he didn’t think of anything better than to awkwardly change the topic. _“I’m starving!”_

Bjorn said nothing, only made an amused face. Something clicked inside his head. He was immediately curious about the topic itself but now became even more intrigued by Halfdan’s responses.

The southern wine hit the head and the body with a pleasant wave of warmth. Bjorn found himself staring at his friend, eyes all over him, unable to stop thinking. Something about this man has always intrigued Bjorn. Ever since they first met Bjorn was far more interested in Halfdan then in his older brother. Harald was plain. Crystal. He was led by ambition which made it rather simple to figure him out. Halfdan was… something else. At first Bjorn thought of him as of a kind of a dark horse, in a way. He was much more chaotic than Harald. More dangerous, too. Maybe that was what fascinated Bjorn so much. What knocked him off completely was Halfdan’s sudden desire to travel with him. Ragnarsson was at a lost and he couldn’t figure if there was some covert reason behind Halfdan’s actions. But as time passed, the men have grown a strong bond between them. Bjorn would trust Halfdan with his life. But he still couldn’t solve the puzzle that was Halfdan the Black. And their recent conversation didn't shed any more light on it. _“What’s on your mind, Halfdan? What’s on your mind…”_

Bjorn licked his lips and bit them. “Halfdan.”

Halfdan didn’t look up. He was cursing himself for letting the words slip from his mouth.

“Halfdan,” repeated Bjorn. Tattooed Viking sighed and looked at Bjorn wearily. He said nothing.

“What’s the matter? Have I… offended you?” started Bjorn cautiously, “By assuming… things?” His voice was very soft and his eyes didn’t show even a hint of reproach. Yet there was something in his eyes that Halfdan couldn’t quite decipher.

“You haven’t”, he finally answered. This vague response didn’t actually give an answer to the implied question. Bjorn chuckled and smiled widely, that bastard will not make it any easier. He stood up and paced a bit around the tent. Being unable to think of a better, more elegant way of addressing the matter, he just asked bluntly:

“Is it.. is it different?”

There was a short moment of absolute silence before Halfdan burst into laughter.

“Oh, you truly are your father’s son!” he said, smirking. The playful lights in Bjorn’s eyes got him in a mischievous mood. His default mood, actually, rather than sullen moody self-hating gloom.

“I do not know what you are talking about”, said Bjorn with a tricky smile. “I’m just… curious. About… many things”.

He casually flopped to the pillows near Halfdan. Very near. Halfdan could almost feel his breath. Ironside, what a tease. Bjorn was all smiling as he looked at Halfdan, definitely not going to let him evade the answer.

“If you are so eager to know, my friend, then I should tell you. Well, it… depends. On a point of view, so to say”, Halfdan twitched his eyebrow, smiling wryly, and looked Bjorn in the eye. Bjorn didn’t look away. His face was less than a foot away. Staring at Halfdan’s brown eyes he said slowly and steadily:

“And how do _you_ prefer it?”

Halfdan’s throat went dry. Now he surely could feel Bjorn’s breath at his face. He showed his teeth and whispered, narrowing his eyes:

“Are you asking what I _think_ you’re asking, Bjorn Ironside?”

Blue eyes moved closer, without breaking the eye contact. “Show me.”

 _“Ah, to Hel with that”,_ splashed in Halfdan’s mind in a blink of a moment as he grabbed the back of Bjorn’s neck and harshly pressed his lips to his half-open mouth, kissing him hard.

Within a heartbeat he felt Bjorn’s tongue finding its way in his own mouth, while Bjorn’s wrapped his cheek and his shoulders, drawing him closer.

Bjorn’s beard was soft and almost tender, while Halfdan’s stiff moustache made Bjorn’s face prickle. He wholly devoted himself to this unusual sensation. Kissing Halfdan was very, very pleasant. He was eager, passionate and aggressive, not like any woman Bjorn has ever been with. He saddled Bjorn, twirling in his lap, his hands all over Bjorn, pulling his hair and stroking his chest. Although Bjorn has never felt attracted to men, _this_ made his blood boil. Finally they broke away from each other for a breath and both laughed.

“So, how long have you been wanting to do this?” asked Bjorn, caressing Halfdan’s face, to which he moved forward and made a little moan. That sound made Bjorn feel even more hot.

“I don’t know. Three, five months?” he chuckled. “You, three, five minutes, I suppose?” he put his hands on Bjorn’s neck and slightly squeezed it with his fingers. “It was quite wild, not bad for an amateur”, smirked Halfdan, rubbing his lower body against Bjorn’s. He felt that the boy was agitated and he wanted to make another sarcastic remark but was interrupted by Bjorn who grabbed the back of Halfdan’s head, drawing him for another kiss. But Halfdan was in a teasing mood, so he was pulling away every couple of seconds, only giving Bjorn quick little kisses.

His hands slid under Bjorn’s shirt, one moving around his back and shoulders, another exploring his sweaty chest. Breaking away from the kiss again, Halfdan pinched Bjorn’s nipple, making the Viking tremble with his whole muscular body. Bjorn roared and knocked Halfdan down, making him lay on his back, and pinned both his hands above his head. He hungrily attacked Halfdan’s lips, making the man moan into his mouth. It was setting him off, making him forget who he was and where he was, his whole existence narrowed down to the only thing which was Halfdan’s slender body. Which he had not a slightest idea how to deal with. If Bjorn was able to think straight at the moment, he would be confused and uncertain on what he should do. But at the moment he couldn’t – and wouldn’t want to – think straight. He wanted to feel. He wanted to explore. He wanted this to last forever.

Bjorn let go of his grip on Halfdan’s hands. “Oh, I quite enjoyed that, you have a true grip”, chuckled Halfdan as he rubbed his wrists which were definitely going to have some marks on later. He grabbed Bjorn’s shirt and helped him take it off, his own shirt following to the floor. He overturned Bjorn, swapping places with him, and straddled his legs. He could feel Bjorn rather hard and hot through the thin pants and he smirked again. And then he leaned and started kissing and Bjorn’s chest.

It was something that he’s dreamt of, literally, not once and not twice. In his sleep he would toy with Bjorn’s nipples using his tongue, bite the skin here and there, sometimes drawing blood and licking it off, and then kiss hard, leaving marks, and lick long patterned tracks as complex and intertwined as the tattoos on his own face. He would go up to Bjorn’s neck and bite it and find all the right spots which made the man beneath him moan and shudder, and then he would give him a deep and slow kiss on the lips, so long that they both would need to get their breath afterwards, and then he would bite his lip painfully and return down, through the neck and the nipples, to his navel and lower, lower, lower. And at this moment he would always wake up, alone in the dark, all hot, hard, sweaty and impossibly angry at himself.

Halfdan was afraid he would wake up again. But he didn’t, and, sitting between Bjorn’s legs now and looking him in the eye he slid his hand into Bjorn’s pants.

“You, monster!”, he wildly laughed and leaned to Bjorn’s face for a kiss.  “Oh help me Freyja”.

Bjorn ached. He ached so much that he almost couldn’t breathe. What this mystery man, his brother-in-arms, his _friend_ was doing to him with his arms, tongue and kisses was plainly and simply driving him crazy. At this point his mind switched off completely, he was growling and moaning, and he couldn’t even understand if he wanted to release from this pain or for this torture to never end.

Just what Halfdan needed.

Suddenly Bjorn felt such impossible hotness and tightness that his firmly shut eyes flew open and he gasped loudly. Halfdan was atop of him, breathing heavily, slowly sinking his body down, his nails leaving bloody scratches on Bjorn’s chest. He was shuddering, sometimes making little moans of pain because in fact he wasn’t at all prepared to what Bjorn did have down there. It was going to be rough and painful.

Just what Halfdan needed.

Finally, he bent down to Bjorn’s face and kissed him sharply. His hair was wild and wet and it hang over his face. Looking Bjorn in the eye with the maddest smile, he ordered: “Move”.

***

His screams must have been heard on another part of the court, as well as Bjorn’s roars. They do not care if someone hears. They cling to each other desperately, clutching each other to pain. They move as if they were fighting: with the same speed, force and frenzy, and amount of blood. They do not care if the Ragnarok comes right now. They do not care if Odin himself steps in the doorway. They fuck like never before, as if their whole lives depend on it. They do not care if they die. What they do care about right now is to make is as wild, unrestrained and unbridled as they can. And oh, they do. And this time Halfdan doesn’t stop himself from screaming Bjorn’s name out loud.

 

 


End file.
